


5 Times Charles Had Nothing To Say and 1 Time He Did

by BadLuckBlueEyes



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Cute, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mute!charles, Muteness, Romantic Fluff, Smitten Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5323562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadLuckBlueEyes/pseuds/BadLuckBlueEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier usually has a lot to say. But sometimes he doesn't and that's nice too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Written for the prompt: Erik befriending and falling in love with mute!Charles)</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Charles Had Nothing To Say and 1 Time He Did

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Happy Secret Mutant!
> 
> Fun Fact: I listened to the score from The Theory of Everything while writing this. So if you're looking for something to listen to, that definitely influenced this.

**1\. Meeting**

It is a Thursday in December and Charles stops suddenly in the middle of the quad to stare upwards at the snow drifting lazily into the path in front of him. Something strong barrels into him from behind and Charles topples forward, his books flying from his arms as he falls, landing roughly on his hands and knees. He straightens quickly, turning to stare at the man who is already yelling at him for being stupid, for delaying his ability to get to class, and that he will surely be late _again_ and it is all Charles’ fault.

The man’s arguments die on his lips and he is as quiet as Charles. Charles looks up at him, taking in the steely grey eyes, the lashes weighed down with the fresh snow. A small smile flits across Charles’ face as he admires this man, who has gone from yelling to looking vaguely confused.

“Well, aren’t you going to apologize?” he asks, demanding that Charles make up for his dilemma somehow. Charles does, stooping to the ground to pick up the hat that has fallen from the man’s head and dusting the powdery flakes off, presenting it back to him in a silent offer of peace.

The man takes it, befuddled, and looks at Charles with one eyebrow raised. The same smile finds its way onto Charles’ face, settling there with ease. It is a youthful smile, one that brightens his features and melts even the iciest hearts, or so he’s been told. But he doesn’t care about anyone else. At this moment, there is only one frosty demeanor he aims to crack with that particular smile.

It works. The man softens, taking his hat back and jamming it on his head. Belatedly, he sees the textbooks on the ground and he picks them up, wiping away the snow and leaving wet streaks behind on the covers before holding them out to Charles.

Charles takes the books with a nod of acknowledgement and turns away, starting again on the path he had been walking on only moments before. In the few seconds their encounter has taken, his entire life has changed and he knows that he is in love with the slightly dazed grey-eyed man with the snowflakes dotting the lashes standing behind him.

There is the rustling of a jacket as the man returns to reality, water-resistant fabric rubbing against itself as he pumps his arms, running a little to catch up with Charles. In another moment, they are walking next to each other.

“What building are you going to?” he asks. Charles answers by shifting his books to one arm and pointing to a building looming in the distance with the other. The man nods, satisfied.

“Me too. Do you talk?” The man’s bluntness is refreshing, but Charles reacts as he always does: a smile and a shake of the head. The shake of the head is accompanied by a small shrug, as if there is nothing to be done about it, which is the truth. The smile is not the same warm smile as before, it is slightly colder, the warmth faked and kept to the lower half of his face. The smile does not quite reach his eyes.

“Oh,” The man goes quiet. Charles suspects the silence is fleeting, that his mind is overrun with curiosity and queries. His next question surprises Charles.

“Can I buy you something to apologize for running into you? I don’t really have money, but I could get something from the cafeteria if you want, I didn’t mean to yell at you and stuff,”

For the first time in perhaps ever, Charles is rendered speechless. Metaphorically. He swallows heavily. He barely knows this man, he has only just met him by accident. The knowledge that Charles already loves this man does nothing to soften the blow.

Without breaking his stride, Charles reaches into the back pocket of his pants, pulling free a well worn notebook. He finds a pen in a side pocket of his backpack, using a textbook as a hard surface while he scribbles a note, the letters small and neat from years of using it as a method of communication.

_You had every right to yell at me. You’ve nothing to make up to me._

He tears the sheet out and glances at the man before pressing the note into his hands, speeding up to get to his next class and leaving the only beacon of light in his otherwise dreary day behind him. He doesn’t look back at the man standing frozen in place as the grey and snow obscure him.

**2\. Dinner**

Two weeks later, Charles is on a date. After their initial encounter, the stranger had bumped into Charles again and again. He was always polite and stopped asking if he could buy Charles dinner to make up for knocking the smaller man over after bumping into him for the third time. Approximately four seconds later, he admitted that he wanted to take Charles on a date.

Charles, likely the most easy to flatter human on the planet, had graciously accepted. One date had turned to two and that had given way to a third and now the fourth date they are on now.

Starting from the moment he introduced himself, Erik had proven to be full of surprises. What was love at first sight for Charles quickly evolved into something akin to agony whenever they were separated.

Tonight, they are in Erik’s childhood home. Erik had deemed his sophomore dorm’s kitchen unusable and said the same of Charles’ after one look at it. Erik guided them both to his car and embarked on the hour-long ride back to his house so that he could cook something proper there.

Charles sits at the small table nestled into the corner of the kitchen. He has turned the small wooden chair slightly to watch Erik flit around the space, utterly within his comfort zone as he pulls free various pots and pans, tossing ingredients about and pulling together a meal for the two of them.

His parents have made themselves scarce for the night, and Charles vaguely wonders if Erik was planning this all along, rather than the split-second decision it seemed to be at the time.

It was likely a balance between the two, Charles figures. Long-term planning seems to fall on the list of Erik’s weaknesses, while controlling spontaneity and making his every movement appear utterly natural is a strong suit. Charles loves it.

Though he is silent and watchful, Charles realizes that Erik is very aware of his presence in the kitchen. He talks about everything and nothing, describing what he’s cooking and how he’s cooking it, bringing up the subject of his parents and telling Charles about them, and blurting out whatever else crosses his mind without him really giving too much thought to what he is telling Charles.

Within the space of fifteen minutes, Charles is completely caught up in the family gossip. He hears about aunts, cousins (one of whom is deaf, as Erik mentioned in the past, meaning that while he is rusty, he is not unfamiliar with sign language. Charles had been utterly delighted to find that he would not have to write or type his responses whenever he had something to say, though he still has to write occasionally while Erik brushes up), and even Erik’s little sister, also conveniently missing for the night.

While he is usually somewhat annoyed when people feel the need to fill his silence with their own words, Charles has noticed that Erik talks over everyone, not just his quiet friends. So for now, Charles lets it slide, content to listen some more.

He values a good companionable silence, often finding those in heated chess matches. Erik has proven himself a tough opponent.

And though he usually tries to intervene when someone’s dialogue overlaps with his quiet, Charles finds he has nothing to say. He is not a cook, and with the way Erik is talking, Charles has no questions about what is going on in the kitchen.

A content smile creeps across his face as Erik talks about the pots and pans he’s using, explaining that while he chooses to be a little more lax with it, his parents still keep kosher and that when he is using their kitchen, he respects those rules.

A little while later, Erik puts a lid on the soup he’s made to contrast another snowy night and sits at the table, letting his one-sided conversation drop into silence as he looks appreciatively at Charles.

Their quiet moment is one of bliss, and Charles misses the way it evaporates when a timer goes off and Erik jumps back to action to finish in the kitchen, but the sudden interruption is well worth it when Erik slides a bowl of homemade matzoh ball soup in front of Charles and takes a seat with his own bowl.

It’s the best soup Charles has ever tasted.

**3\. Movie**

A month of dating later, they are in Erik’s dorm, curled into each other on the futon. Erik dozes gently, not bored by the movie, but exhausted from a particularly grueling week of classes. He’d yawned through his request that Charles join him for movie night.

That Erik has fallen asleep is not wholly surprising. Charles loves the way Erik looks when he slumbers. His head lolls, leaning on the back of the couch. Charles traces the curve of Erik’s neck with his eyes, noting the delicate curl of hair barely visible from the back of his neck, the scruff peeking through the pores.

A soft, silent snort finds its way out of Charles’ nose as he reaches out, carding his fingers through Erik’s short hair. It is soft and his scalp is warm. Charles smiles. It is warm and adoring- a small, private grin that he saves especially for Erik, though it is lost on him now as Erik snores.

Charles continues running his fingers through Erik’s hair, gently scratching his scalp with his fingernails. Erik moans obscenely and Charles freezes, worried that Erik is going to wake up. The moment grows tense, but finally passes, and Erik relaxes back into sleep, curling into Charles almost instinctively.

Charles smiles again, taking note of how well they fit together. Erik shifts and his head ends up on Charles’ shoulder. Charles adjusts accordingly, wrapping his free arm around Erik without stopping the motion of his fingers across Erik’s scalp. After a moment, he lays his head against Erik’s. He is tired too, and his awareness is blurry around the edges. He doesn’t have long left before he is asleep too.

The moment is perfect and Charles closes his eyes to savor it. The room is beautifully quiet. As he thinks about it, Charles realizes that he cannot find any words to describe the beauty of the moment, so he stops trying and lets himself drift off instead, lazily tugging Erik’s hair once before resting his hand on top of his head.

After a few minutes, his easy slumber is disturbed by some shuffling noises and Charles cracks open one eye. He finds Erik’s roommate Azazel standing there fumbling with his phone. Azazel jumps nearly drops his phone when he sees Charles watching him.

“I was going to take a picture for blackmail purposes. Should I go away?” Azazel asks, and Charles shakes his head slightly, pulling his own phone from the back pocket and opening the camera before holding it out to Azazel, who takes it with a quiet chuckle.

Charles relaxes and closes his eye again, listening to the synthetic shutter noises for a moment. They pause before resuming again, and Charles figures that Azazel has switched phones.

A moment later, the phone is gently placed on the table in front of him and Azazel sneaks off, the door to the dorm closing gently so as not to disturb Erik.

Charles opens his eyes and lifts his arm from Erik’s shoulder to reach for his phone. He scrolls through the pictures, warmth spreading through his chest as he finds the perfect one. He stares at it for a moment, noting how his heart skips a beat when he sees how easily Erik trusts him.

Erik, who as he has seen firsthand, is antisocial, pushes other people away, and refuses to put trust in anyone. Charles has heard about Erik’s exes (and Charles has told Erik about his own) and he is aware that what they have is completely new to the both of them.

The warm and fuzzy feeling settling in his stomach shows no sign of leaving any time soon, so Charles looks at his favorite of the photos again and makes it the background of his phone so that he can recreate the feeling every time he unlocks it.

**4\. Sickness**

Charles is in the library a week later, his arms folded in front of him with his head resting on his forearms, headphones resting over his ears making him only slightly uncomfortable. He sits in a study kiosk, his eyelids feeling as though they are weighed down. He has been rendered helpless in the battle against sleep, so he lets himself succumb.

The classical music gently wafting into his ears to distract from his budding migraine isn’t quite helping him stay awake, really.

He doesn’t know how long it is until he is jostled awake. He shifts, moving one arm to swat away whoever is trying to bother him. The headphones are slipped away and he hears Erik speaking gently, mindful of the others studying in the library.

Charles stops fighting, sleepily wipes his nose on his sleeve, and stands grudgingly, letting Erik lead him out of the library. He stumbles on the last step and Erik catches his arm, righting him before they continue walking. Charles pouts a little but twists out of Erik’s grip so he can grab his boyfriend’s arm and hold him close, leaning on Erik as they walk back to his dorm.

He loves calling Erik his boyfriend. He loves hearing the word come out of Erik’s mouth, spoken gently and reverently in reference to him.

They reach his dorm with little fuss and Charles drops onto the couch. Whatever energy he might have was sapped away by the walk there and he is spent. He must be getting sick, he thinks vaguely around his sore throat.

He’d groan or whine or something, but he is silent as always and curls in on himself instead.

Charles drifts off, only vaguely aware that something is pulling off his shoes and his coat. He doesn’t protest. He’s too tired to, and he pulls himself tighter into a ball, sniffling lightly the whole time as something constricts in his nose.

He only somewhat registers it when Erik says that he’s going to carry Charles to his room. Strong arms lift him from the couch, one around his shoulders and the other under his knees. Charles instinctively curls into Erik, suddenly freezing and craving the warmth that radiates from Erik.

He’s momentarily thankful he can’t tell Erik how much he loves him, because if he started feverishly describing in detail to Erik everything he loves about him, Charles would only stop long after the point of embarrassment.

Charles drifts into the fog of his fever. When he surfaces briefly, he finds that Erik is in the bed with him, arms wrapped around him to keep him warm while he shivers. He tries to push Erik way, fingers fumbling as he protests that Erik will get sick, but Erik ignores him and pulls Charles closer. So Charles says nothing else, choosing to go back to sleep.

The next day when Charles wakes up refreshed, feeling better than he has in days, he sits up in bed only to find that Eriks is a perfect mimicry of him from hours before.

So Charles lays back down, wrapping his arms around Erik, waiting for the moment when his boyfriend starts shivering.

**5\. Motorcycle**

They’ve been together for three months. It’s actually their anniversary. But to Charles, it’s been forever, and he doesn’t remember what happened before Erik. It doesn’t matter. He prefers life with Erik in it.

They haven’t told each other that they love each other yet. Erik has not said it aloud, Charles has not signed or written it. For them, it seems to go without saying. Charles knows that Erik loves him. He knows that Erik knows that he adores him.

But Charles wants to say it, to make it real. But he doesn’t want to plan something, to have it be forced into conversation. But he doesn’t know how he’d tell Erik.

Charles is really hoping that the perfect moment will present itself.

He’s _really_ hoping it happens soon.

When the snow is melted away from the ground and the roads are somewhat clear, Erik surprises Charles by appearing in front of his dorm building on a motorcycle. Charles slips out the door and his jaw drops when Erik holds out a spare helmet.

“You coming?” Erik asks, and Charles manages to close his mouth before something flies down his throat. He takes the helmet and secures it quickly before climbing onto the bike and snaking his arms around Erik’s waist. He squeezes Erik once in thanks, resting his cheek against Erik’s shoulder as they take off.

Eventually the wind proves to be too much and Charles squeezes his eyes shut and holds on for dear life as Erik weaves through traffic. Charles is exhilarated, loving every second of this new experience. When they stop, he’ll have to make sure he tells Erik how sexy motorcycles are.

Eventually they get off the main roads and start weaving through back roads, slowing enough that Charles can open his eyes and try to figure out where they’re going.

It’s a moment before he recognizes where they are, but he soon figures out that they are on the way to the coffee shop Erik brought them to on a second date. They get there in record time and Erik has Charles stay with the bike while he runs in. Charles marvels at the trust Erik’s placed in him to guard the motorcycle.

Charles watches Erik emerge a moment later with a cup in each hand. When a cup is passed to him, Charles stands on his toes for a moment to press a small kiss to Erik’s cheek in thanks before taking a sip of some of the best hot cocoa he’s ever tasted.

They finish their drinks quickly, but it seems that Erik is not ready to go back to school. They drive a few more minutes on the quiet roads until they reach a small mountain- a state park that Charles hadn’t known existed. Erik finds a small outlet and drives them down a path that he’s clearly been down before and seems utterly confident that they won’t be disturbed.

They wander a few feet away, and Charles finds that Erik is just paranoid enough about losing his bike to want to keep it in his sight, so they don’t stray too far. They lie on their backs together and look up at the sky, the pure blue of the fading winter blocked out by bare branches. They are quiet, each appreciating the space around them.

Charles thinks it looks like a painting. He shares this observation with Erik, who chuckles before nervously sitting up. Erik stares into his lap for a moment, not sure what to do with his hands. Charles sits up too, reaches out and puts one reassuring hand on Erik’s knee, ready to hear whatever Erik wants to say.

“I, um, well, this is sort of my place,” Erik starts, glancing around at the trees as if they will help build his confidence. “It’s not just my place, it’s my favorite place. Ever. But I never bring anybody here. I worry that they’ll ruin it, make it less special…” Erik trails off. Charles tilts his head, watching Erik with a thoughtful expression.

He has no idea where Erik is going with this, but he can tell that Erik has never done something like this before and has no idea what he’s doing. It’s endearing, really. But Charles won’t let Erik know that he thinks that.

Charles is distracted from his thoughts by Erik clearing his throat as he gets ready to continue.

“But… I wanted to share this place with you. I thought you would see why it’s so special and you could appreciate it the same way I do,” Erik finishes his statement and looks at Charles.

Charles wants to say everything and nothing at once. There are so many responses he could give, all of them overlapping statements of how beautiful he thinks this small patch of forest is, how he loves the serenity of it.

There is so much to say but he doesn’t know how to say it. Erik is looking at him nervously now, definitely worried at Charles’ lack of a response.

“What are you thinking?” Erik finally asks. Charles loves when Erik asks him that. He loves how much Erik cares about his opinion, how much attention Erik pays whenever he wants to say something. Erik likes detailed responses, likes asking Charles more questions when he doesn’t understand.

Charles loves that Erik wants to know everything.

And suddenly, he knows exactly what to say.

_I love you_ , Charles mouths his response, smiling blissfully. That there is no sound to accompany it doesn’t matter because Erik’s face lights up all the same and he is smiling too, and-

“I love you too. So much.” Erik replies, exhaling the words. Charles leans forward, practically climbing into Erik’s lap to kiss him firmly, because this is all he needs and all he will ever need.

**+1. I Love You**

Charles has yet to run out of ways to tell Erik how much he loves him.

There is the sign, his favorite sign, pressed gently into the small of Erik’s naked back before they fall asleep, accompanied by Erik’s husky reply of “Love you too”, nearly always tired and jumbled, is a start. But it is not enough, Charles thinks, as his hand drifts upward, ghosting over Erik’s spine before he drapes his arm over the other man and pulls him close.

Saying it is never enough, so he comes up with new ways to express it.

He learns how Erik takes his coffee and makes sure that when he slips out of bed in the mornings to put the pot on before climbing back into their space, still warm from sleep, that it will be perfect when they emerge from the sheets, ready for their day.

After five years of dating and three years of living together, he has not run out of ways yet.

He texts Erik constantly when they are not together, checking up on him when he is at work, asking how his day is going and what he can do to help with getting ready for dinner (Charles is not allowed to cook dinner to express his love after he set the kitchen on fire).

He is quick to get off of the couch when the dog wants to go outside, but just as quick to fall back gratefully when Erik presses a firm hand to his shoulder and says that he’s got it covered.

Charles will always compliment Erik, even when he looks like shit, because he loves Erik too much to hurt him.

And tonight, after Charles drives Erik to what has become their favorite coffee shop and gotten them both pastries, he will tell Erik exactly how much he loves him by getting down on one knee and presenting him with the small ring currently hidden in the box in his office.

And because Charles knows that Erik loves him, he’s already excited for Erik to promise to continue to love him always when he says “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I fell in love with this prompt and I loved writing it. I hope you all enjoyed reading! Huge thanks to the person who beta read this.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Five Useful Signs When Dating Charles Xavier (a down under remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055709) by [letosatie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letosatie/pseuds/letosatie)
  * [Five Silences and The Actions That Speak Louder Than Words (5 Times Charles Had Nothing to Say and 1 Time He Did Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11453148) by [IreneADonovan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan)




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